


what we lose in the fire we gain in the flood

by gutsandglitter



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsandglitter/pseuds/gutsandglitter
Summary: Her hands, Bernie thinks. I’ve missed her hands the most.





	

_Her hands_ , Bernie thinks. _I’ve missed her hands the most._

They’re soft hands, free of calluses. Hands gentle enough to have cradled a still-beating heart in one minute, yet firm enough to hold down a spasming junkie in the next. 

Like Bernie, her fingerprints are completely imperceptible, worn away from years of pre- and post-surgery scrubbing with antimicrobial soap. Bernie allows herself to wonder if this is why Serena’s touches feel particularly gentle, why her caresses feel so achingly tender. There is no roughness to her hands, no coarseness to catch and tug and tear. 

Bernie feels safe in those hands. Would put her life in those hands. 

 

Her voice though. _God, her voice._

So much deeper than you would expect from such a fairly petite woman. Deep and throaty, especially when the Shiraz is flowing.

Bernie has treated patients with synesthesia who say that certain sounds have colors, and when she hears Serena’s voice she thinks she can almost see them too.

Crimson when she takes the lead on a trauma case. Immediate, attention-grabbing, powerful crimson. Crimson that comes with experience. Crimson that probably started as a dusky pink years ago, when she was just a fragile med student quavering with uncertainty. Crimson that has grown and deepened over the years, crimson stained dark from years of experience and loss.

When she flirts it’s a sprightly, springy green. A tantalizing promise of something new about to take root. A green as warm as a summer sunbeam, the kind that makes you shiver even as your cheeks begin to flush from the heat. 

And then there’s the tranquil blue that comes when she offers comfort, be it to Jason, a patient, or Bernie herself. A delicate blue, soft as chenille, threading itself through the darkness. It’s a blue of the stillest, calmest waters, and it makes Bernie want to dive deep, to drown.

 

Oh, and her eyes!

They miss nothing, those eyes. Always searching for something. They’re eyes that have watched countless patients take their last breath and watched her own daughter take her first. Eyes that twinkle with mischief in the dim light of Albie’s and send deadly glares to anyone at Holby who stands in her way. Eyes that have cried from joy, from sorrow.

_From heartbreak._

*****

Serena’s not on the floor when Bernie arrives, which is just as well. Raf makes a commotion at her arrival, so it’s a solid five minutes of hugs and salutes before she manages to slink away to her office.

Their office.

Serena is sitting at her desk frowning at her computer when Bernie opens the door. It takes her a moment to register the other presence in the room, her dark eyes glance up at Bernie absently and she freezes.

Bernie’s breath catches in her throat. 

For a moment they stare in almost-silence, oblivious to the hum of activity outside the office.

“Welcome back, Major,” Serena says quietly. Her tone is strange, and Bernie can’t tell what color it is. Her stomach sinks.

“It’s good to be back,” she says.

She tries to say “I’m sorry,” tries to say “I made a mistake.”

Instead she takes a tentative step forward and says, “I missed you.” It’s both too much and not enough. It’s too fast, it’s impertinent, and it’s a devastatingly vast understatement.

Serena’s face remains impassive. “And I’ve decided what I want.”

Bernie swallows back the bile currently rising in her throat. “Okay.”

Serena rests her elbows on her desk, folds her hands across her blotter. “I want someone who doesn’t bugger off to Kiev the moment I begin to express my affection for them.”

Bernie expected this, knew she deserved this, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Her lower lip gives a traitorous tremble and she prays for the cold hospital tiles to crack open, for the earth to swallow her whole. 

“Right,” she says, because there’s nothing else to say.

Serena inclines her head slightly. “So.”

“So,” Bernie parrots. She has to get out of this room before the tears start to fall.

“So if I were to tell you that I love you, would you run away again?”

Bernie blinks once, twice, three times. 

“What?”

A shadow of worry crosses Serena’s face. “I, er-”

Realization hits Bernie like lightning. “No,” she says quickly, closing the distance between herself and Serena’s desk, kneeling quickly so that she is at eye-level with the other woman. “No. Serena if I, if you gave me another chance I swear to you I will never, ever hurt you like that again.”

Serena nods. “Good.” 

There is a pause. 

“Because I do, you know. Love you.”

The tears are falling freely now. “And I love you,” Bernie says, voice thick and wet. 

Bernie opens her arms and Serena all but falls into them, clinging to her desperately. Serena, her Serena; hands, voice, eyes, and all. So, so much more than a sum of her parts.

Bernie closes her eyes, presses her forehead to Serena’s temple. 

“I missed you,” she says again, and this time it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note because I think this is fascinating: the thing about surgeons' fingerprints wearing down is actually true! Apparently fingerprint machines (like the ones they use at the DMV) have a really hard time reading career surgeons' fingerprints. The soap they use is really heavy-duty nasty stuff, and after years and years of continuous use it can do serious damage to the skin of their hands and arms.   
> The more you know!


End file.
